Garden – Kevan Smith

Octopus’s Garden is a very shady grotto. Cedric hides in the back and nibbles on small larvae and crustaceans he has gathered this morning. He has his pipe and slippers and his favourite coral armchair, the one with the round boards so he can rock back and forth, watching the vista of the reef just outside his door/window.

He has been here for many years, is well known for his poetry and short stories, and his once-a-month storytelling at all the swimmy kiddies in the area. They come from far and wide and gather at the edge of the continental drop-off for him to blow bubbles out of his chimney to tell them it’s time. Every morning after the once-a-month swell, just when the sun beams onto the edge of the reef, all the kiddies gather and chuckle and dart about playing chasies and tag in excited expectation of ‘Uncle’ Cedric’s storytelling time. They dart and blow bubbles and hide amongst the seaweed in excited anticipation of another Grand Cedric epic.

Bubble bubble up goes the signal and ‘Uncle’ appears at his grotto’s entrance. The kiddies stop their play and darting and hiding and flipper and crab up to the edge all bubbling but falling silent as the great Cedric rises to his full height on octolegs and flumps down into the large brain coral.

‘Grump, grump, ahumpt’ he clears his throat.

‘Now boys and girls and taddies’ he slowly gazes at them all one by one with a stare that makes the tiddles freeze and a small squid let go a little bit of involuntary ink.

‘Todayyyy’ he pronounces ‘we will adventure down the annals of long ago and visit the ancients at our reef.’

They all shudder.

‘Yes, that’s right girls and boys and taddies. The deep dark past of when humans… those foul white skinned seals… would come and kill us one by one.’